


Resettlement

by Keiko Kirin (sakana17)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-05
Updated: 2002-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakana17/pseuds/Keiko%20Kirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel pines. An A/U "what if" that spins off from "A Hundred Days" and warps subsequent canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resettlement

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Thevetia, for help and encouragement and for having all the best ideas.

"It didn't work."

Impossible to believe. When was Sam ever wrong? Then again, when was the last time she'd built a particle beam generator from scratch?

Everyone stood, silent, and stared at the digital noise on the screen that should have been MALP telemetry. Sam pressed a button. The screen went black.

Daniel didn't know what to say to her. He looked at Teal'c. Teal'c stared at the gateroom below for a moment, hands clasped behind his back, then walked away without a word. General Hammond watched him go, met Daniel's eyes briefly, then said to Sam, "You did your best, Major. I'll meet with SG-1 tomorrow at 0900."

Sam kept her gaze on the gateroom, staring at the particle beam generator. She said quietly, "Yes, sir."

She didn't look at Daniel. He still had no idea what to say. He stared at her bleak profile, then left the control room.

For the rest of the day, he was okay. He was operating on a background idea that Sam would make a few adjustments and get the particle beam generator working, and they'd be able to get the telemetry from Edora and proceed to rescue Jack. Even though part of him knew this idea was a rapidly fading hope, he let it remain as a buffer. He wasn't ready to think about this now. For three months he hadn't been thinking about it; he had held onto the conviction that Sam was never wrong, that this would be another one of those spectacular, against-all-odds SG-1 rescue.

He needed a new conviction.

Daniel didn't go home that night. He buried himself in a backlog of work he'd been counting on the rescue to save him from doing. When he couldn't keep his eyes open, he found an empty bunk in an empty room and passed out in his clothes. And God help him if Doctor Fraiser found out; she'd have him in to see Doctor McKenzie again. Whoever said talking about your feelings to a stranger was therapy had never met Doctor McKenzie.

He woke up in a strange room, dark but for the square of fluorescent light coming in through the window in the door. His back ached from sleeping on a hard bunk, and he felt gritty and unwashed. He rubbed his face and checked his watch. A little over three hours before their meeting with Hammond. The meeting where they would find out whom Hammond had picked to replace Jack.

That's when the buffer fell. It didn't matter if he wasn't ready to think about it -- the thoughts came anyway. Jack wasn't coming back. Jack was gone.

Daniel lay back on the bunk and stared at the ceiling. Ugly grey concrete, ugly drab green, ugly utilitarian blue: these were the colors of his life now. Once everything had been gold and yellow and brown. Sand, stone, Sha're's skin, Sha're's hair. Back on a different world, a different time, a different life.

How many rotten years must he endure? Were they going to get worse than this? Couldn't he have some warning ahead of time? _Look out, this year is going to suck. Again._ And although the deep-rooted nightmarish year of his childhood -- parents gone, grandfather staying away, scary new people calling themselves his parents -- still felt devastating, this current year was worse than that. His wife was dead. Jack was gone. Not to mention temporary insanity and institutionalization, alien takeovers, going to Hell (and back), nearly dying. Not to mention those -- normal, everyday SG-1 routine.

Or it had been. What was routine now? All his anchors were failing him. Finding Sha're (did that, too late). Jack (lost that, too soon). What he had left were Sam and Teal'c, finding the harsesis child, and his work. Daniel wasn't sure he should put all his weight on these anchors. Maybe that's what kept causing them to slip.

\-----

General Hammond assigned Colonel Makepeace to SG-1. They were to resume normal missions. First mission would be back to P3X-797, to see how the Edoran refugees were doing and report their failure. Daniel had a side assignment: diplomatic meeting with the Tollan. Indirectly to do with getting them to change their minds about sharing technology. Directly to do with checking on their progress sending a ship to Edora.

Councillor Travell was polite, cold. The ship had been sent. There was no way to reduce its estimated journey time. They would not share their technology. It was a short meeting.

They went to P3X-797, the Land of Light. Tuplo greeted them warmly, but there was something in his manner that made Daniel suspicious. At the customary welcoming banquet, Daniel's suspicions grew stronger. None of the Edorans attended.

"They declined the invitation," Tuplo explained apologetically. But before Daniel could ask why, Makepeace was saying, "We have some news that concerns both you and the Edorans."

Makepeace looked at Daniel. "Doctor Jackson, would you care to explain the situation?"

Daniel stared at Makepeace, sat back, and tilted his head a little. "Oh no, you go ahead."

Makepeace set his jaw and shot Daniel a cold glare. To Tuplo, he said, "Our attempts to send a MALP to Edora have failed. It will be at least a year before we can hope to resettle the Edorans on their planet."

Tuplo smoothed his robe and glanced down at the table. "I see." When he looked up, he looked not at Makepeace, but at Daniel. "Will you inform them, or do you wish for me to do so?" There was a note of resignation in his voice.

Daniel said quietly, without bothering to look at Makepeace first, "I'll tell them."

The banquet, such as it was under this heavy atmosphere, resumed. When Daniel dared glance at Makepeace, the colonel gave him another icy, if-looks-could-kill glare. Daniel wondered how long he'd be able to get away with this until Makepeace burst.

After the feast, they trekked several miles over lush green hills to the Edoran refugee camp. There were drab green, military-issue tents set up next to a wide, clear stream. A few hastily constructed wooden outhouses stood a few yards away. Two oxen grazed in a field next to the camp. The Edorans were working: women sewing and weaving, men chopping wood and building a shed.

Keverin, the appointed leader of the refugees, broke away from chopping when he saw SG-1 approach. He set down his axe and met them partway, in front of the first tent.

"What news?"

Daniel removed his hat and twisted it in one hand. "We... we haven't been able to establish contact with Edora. Our next hope is our allies, who are sending a ship to the planet. We're hoping they will be able to find the stargate and get it working again. Their technology--"

"How long?" Keverin asked sharply.

"Excuse me?"

"How long will this ship take?"

Sam answered for him. "A year. At least."

Keverin looked at them, eyes dark and hard under his grey, bushy eyebrows, and frowned. Without another word, he turned away and went back to the chopping block.

At Daniel's insistence -- and he was deeply thankful for Teal'c's unwavering support in this -- they stayed with the Edorans for a few days. Sam helped them design a small mill for the stream. Teal'c helped them build the storage shed. Makepeace escorted Keverin to Tuplo for negotiations about livestock and gifts of food. Daniel begrudgingly admitted that Makepeace handled Keverin well. Maybe it was because they shared the same gruff, unfriendly manner.

And in the Edoran camp, Daniel listened. His offers of practical help invariably turned into impromptu therapy sessions as the Edorans poured out all their frustration, anger, fear, and confusion. As if he hadn't already felt helpless.

The Edorans hated Tuplo's people, although Daniel couldn't figure out exactly why. It seemed to be a dislike of strangers mixed with resentment of Tuplo's hospitality. Daniel suspected Tuplo and his people were receiving the brunt of the Edorans' anger at SG-1 for not saving them all. He had to bite his tongue. _We left someone behind, too._

The worst was when they broke down completely, worrying about loved ones, friends back on Edora. _I'm not a grief counsellor. I haven't even dealt with my own grief yet._

He didn't know what to say to them, so he kept quiet. He listened. He thought about Doctor McKenzie, and how McKenzie's brand of listening was intimidating and frustrating. He hoped he was better at it than that.

When they got back, Daniel felt completely drained. Sam had been ordered to study the geomagnetic observations SG-8 had brought back from P7R-743 and make recommendations. Makepeace made it clear that he did not consider finding Kheb a priority and would not push General Hammond on the matter of missions. Daniel's weariness ebbed, and he put up a good fight. But Makepeace wasn't the right opponent. He was all protocol and orders, by the book. And, his trump card: he didn't care. He didn't care about the harsesis child (it was just a legend, right?) and he didn't care about Daniel's grief and need to _do_ something. If Doctor Jackson wasn't satisfied with SG-1, Doctor Jackson could request reassignment. Plenty of translations to do, weren't there?

So they went to P7R-743 and set up what looked like a big satellite dish to Daniel, and Sam made some useful discovery about harnessing geomagnetic waves or something. Was this how Jack had always felt, when Daniel had discovered something fascinating which Jack had no interest in whatsoever? Bored, restless to be elsewhere doing something more than this, feeling slightly guilty for not caring more than he did.

Time crawled.

\-----

Four months passed and things were a new normal. Daniel did what was expected of him and saved up his energy for the fights that mattered. He knew Makepeace's style now, knew when to attack, when to retreat. Makepeace had more patience than Jack, oddly enough. But he also had less imagination. He was predictable, dreary, and closed off.

Going over his head and seeing Hammond directly didn't work anymore. Only Teal'c could get away with it, and even then, it didn't always fly. Besides, Teal'c was extremely judicious in picking his causes. Teal'c and Makepeace had managed a working relationship. Daniel wasn't sure what it was founded on, since neither of them seemed to respect or trust the other. Not the way Teal'c and Jack had, anyway.

Sam obeyed orders. Sam had changed. By the time Daniel fully realized just how much she was blaming herself for the failure of the particle beam generator, it was too late. Sam had retreated, just that little bit. A slight distance where there hadn't been one before. A hesitation, a half-formed smile. They were still friends, but... When he tried to talk to her, off the base and away from everything Air Force, it was clear that neither of them knew what to say. They shared the loss, and the hope, but the moment when this might have bound them together closer than ever had passed. Sam plunged herself in her work, as she always did, and spent more time with Janet Fraiser and Cassie. Daniel envied her that outlet, even though he visited Cassie and Janet, too. But he wasn't a woman, and didn't have a woman's talent for sharing deep emotional burdens without it becoming awkward or strained. That was one language he'd never learned.

The new normal sucked, pretty much. But Daniel managed. He spent all his spare time hunting down every reference and lead on Kheb that he could. He completed the backlog of Goa'uld standard dialect translations as a by-product. He could work. Work was easy. What he couldn't do was stop and think. When he stopped, there was a hole in the world.

Time wasn't crawling anymore, but it also wasn't flying.

Then came P2X-416. The fiasco with the Bedrosians. Daniel couldn't put all the blame on Makepeace -- they'd walked into a bad situation, and Daniel had wanted to go to the planet as much as Makepeace had -- but he did blame him for Nyan's death. All the near-misses, all the close scrapes, Jack had never left a friendly local like that. Not when the local had already risked his life to help SG-1. That was not Jack's style. But, as was all too obvious, Makepeace's style wasn't Jack's.

And when they came back, hurtling through the gate, Daniel noticed something else that wasn't Jack's style. Makepeace had taken something from Nyan's body and brought it back. It was a small pen-like object. Daniel had seen Nyan clutching it when he went down. He saw Makepeace sliding it into his pocket as they tumbled through the gate together.

He expected Makepeace to mention it at the debriefing, hand it to Sam and ask her to figure it out. Then he waited for Makepeace's final report, to give Makepeace the benefit of the doubt. Two strikes. Daniel decided to go see General Hammond.

"You're certain that this Nyan didn't give the object to Colonel Makepeace?" General Hammond was being careful with his questions. There was something behind his calmly serious demeanor, especially since he hadn't welcomed an unannounced visit from Daniel in months.

Daniel responded as carefully. "Nyan was still holding it when he died. Before he died, he didn't have time to talk with Colonel Makepeace, so I'm sure he didn't give it to the colonel or tell him to take it."

"Do you know what the object is? What it does?"

"I talked to Teal'c," Daniel said. At General Hammond's quick frown, he added, "Without going into details. I only said that I'd seen Nyan holding it, and asked if he knew what it was. Teal'c said it produced a beam of light that cured his blindness."

"But Colonel Makepeace wouldn't have known this," said General Hammond questioningly.

"No. I don't see how he could've." Daniel waited and watched the general's face, grave and unhappy.

Hammond paused, looked down at his hands clasped on his desk. "Doctor Jackson, what I'm about to tell you cannot leave this room. Do you understand?"

A landslide, thick and slow like mud, inside: curiosity, concern, fear, and underneath it all, that inappropriate, petty joy at being right. Yes, there was something wrong with Makepeace. Daniel sat up straight. "Yes, General."

Hammond spoke slowly, troubled by what he had to say. "I was contacted by the Tollan some time ago. Through them, the Asgard sent a message that technology is being stolen from Asgard protected planets by humans who appear to be SGC personnel. They, and the Tollan and the Nox, have threatened to cut off all diplomatic ties if we can't capture the thieves ourselves."

_If the Tollan severed diplomatic relations, would they recall their ship...?_

Hammond continued, "I haven't been sure whom to trust. I thought of sending Major Carter in as an undercover operative, try to get contact with who's behind this through her, but with her exemplary record, I don't think she'd pass. Teal'c is too honorable, and I don't think these people would deal with a Jaffa, anyway."

"Sir, I would--"

Hammond smiled a little. "Yes, I know. But this shadow operation is being run on military lines. I have my suspicions, no proof. Forgive me for saying this, son, but I don't think they'd try to recruit you, either."

Daniel sat back and picked at the hem of his jacket. He frowned a little. "I guess not." He let go of his jacket and shook his head. "I hate to say it, but it's the kind of thing Jack could've done..."

Hammond smiled again, briefly, sadly. "I thought of that, myself." They were silent for a moment, an imaginary toast to Jack, absent friend. Then Hammond said, "Well, it appears you've brought me part of the proof I need. The man inside, which I knew they'd have to have. The next part I hate to ask you to do, but by now Colonel Makepeace will have passed along the pen device from P2X-416. I need you to watch him without arousing suspicion and catch him in the act. Expose him when you return from a mission, before he has time to get rid of the evidence."

Daniel thought about it for a few seconds. It wasn't like he was going to refuse, but he had to admit this wasn't exactly the kind of thing his background had prepared him for. On the other hand, now that he knew Makepeace was a rat, and not just a dull, unfriendly but honest military man, his dislike had solidified into hatred. Coupled with the urgency to save their diplomatic ties with their allies, he figured he had enough motivation to get good at spying in a hurry.

"You can't tell Major Carter or Teal'c," Hammond said. "I trust them as I trust you in this matter, but I don't want them to behave in any way differently around Colonel Makepeace. That could tip him off. We need him still certain that he hasn't been exposed."

Daniel almost argued, but he imagined Teal'c around someone he knew to be a traitor jeopardizing their alliances. He didn't think Makepeace was good enough at deciphering Teal'c's silences to perceive the difference between uneasy truce and hostility, but Makepeace might pick up on something and play it safe. And Sam would be in an awkward position, having to obey her superior officer while working to undermine him.

"It's not going to be easy," Daniel said frankly. "I don't like the thought of keeping this a secret from them. But I see your point. I won't tell them. But if they start to suspect something on their own, and come to me, I won't lie to them, sir."

General Hammond paused, then nodded. "All right. But if either of them suspects something, come to me first. I think this information should only come from me."

"Yes. Agreed."

Daniel left Hammond's office feeling strangely energized. It wasn't excitement -- it was too heavy a feeling -- but the importance of what he had to do steadied him. His immediate concern was how to face Makepeace, but when the time came, he found it wasn't so hard after all. He'd never disguised how he felt about Makepeace, and he received a certain amount of satisfaction in anticipating giving Makepeace enough rope to hang himself.

Time crawled again. Damn Makepeace was too careful. Daniel's resolve was marred by not knowing if Makepeace was managing to slip something past, and the constant effort involved in observing without being obvious about it. Daniel had a new appreciation for Jack's sneaking-around skills. Wished Jack were around to give him a few pointers. Wished Jack were around, period.

When it happened, Daniel wasn't sure he'd seen what he thought he'd seen. He was so used to waiting, observing, seeing nothing, waiting again. But he had to make up his mind, fast.

He watched Makepeace stride confidently down the gateroom ramp and called up to the control room, "General Hammond." He pointed at Makepeace's back.

Hammond's order through the intercom. "Stop SG-1." And Daniel was both impressed and unnerved by how responsive the gateroom guards were. No hesitation at all. MP-5s raised and aimed, SG-1 surrounded at the bottom of the ramp.

Awful minutes. Sam's shocked, puzzled look and the way she asked, "Daniel?" General Hammond coming in to search Makepeace himself, and those horrible, horrible seconds when he found nothing and Daniel felt the world collapsing. He'd made the wrong call, he hadn't seen anything at all. Goodbye, allies.

Hammond pulled a small, flat object wrapped in cloth from Makepeace's jacket. He uncovered it. Daniel had never seen anything like it before. It certainly hadn't come from the planet they were just on. Resolve, grim satisfaction, strange energy, and hatred all flooded back.

Daniel dropped his hands from his head and stepped forward. "He picked it up next to the DHD. It was hidden under some stones."

A guard was strapping Makepeace's hands together behind his back. Makepeace looked at Daniel with calm, unconcerned resignation. His gamble was over. He wasn't taking it personally. Daniel was furious. He wanted Makepeace to take it personally.

\-----

Exposing a traitor shouldn't, by rights, be considered a high point, but given the rest of his year so far, Daniel supposed it was only fitting. There had been a flurry of activity around Makepeace's capture: restoring the faith of their allies; explaining it all to Sam and Teal'c, who both understood perfectly after their initial feelings of being left out; going back to retrace Makepeace's steps and figure out what might have been stolen; and bringing down the whole shadow operation through Makepeace's confession.

That last thing didn't happen, though. Makepeace, true soldier to the end, would not expose his superiors. If there were more double-agents in SGC, they had gone to ground, and the Asgard reported that the thefts from protected planets had stopped. Makepeace's capture appeared to have scared the shadow operatives. For now.

The excitement died down. There were six months (at least) left. And SG-1 got a new colonel.

Colonel Bowen. Shorter than Daniel by an inch or two, African American, solidly built. More volatile than Makepeace, about as friendly, but ruthlessly honest. He hated the Goa'uld nearly as much as Jack did. He'd lost a member of his first team to one on their second mission out, nearly two years ago. Bowen's captain had become a host. Bowen had killed him himself.

But the real surprise about Bowen was that he knew Jack from way back. Had worked with him at some unspecified point in time in an unspecified place. Seemed to respect Jack, going by his opening comment to his new team: "Colonel O'Neill's people. Then I know you know what you're doing. O'Neill wouldn't put up with anything less than the best."

However, despite this, it was hard to gauge how Bowen felt about Jack, if he liked him, disliked him, had some grudge, was an old drinking buddy. And because of this, Daniel didn't warm to him though he wanted to.

Bowen listened to him about Kheb and the harsesis child, agreed on their importance. Bowen let Daniel stay behind from a mission to an uninhabited planet to work on something else. Bowen read Daniel's reports and asked questions. They could work together, they could communicate, but it was just that and nothing more. Very efficient, very practical, very military. This was the new new normal.

Daniel kept working. Work was still easy. But the hole in the world was getting bigger and harder to ignore.

Time was limping along at a steady pace.

\-----

It had been nine months since he'd seen Jack. God, how could that be? Daniel shook his head at himself for even wondering at it. It had been longer than that on Abydos.

But that had been a different time, different world, different life. A year that melted away in a sandstorm, in the blink of an eye.

Daniel had a mental picture of Jack. It wasn't the last time he'd seen Jack -- that had been too rushed, confused, urgent. And it wasn't any of the pleasant downtime memories he might have picked: beer and pizza at Jack's house, playing cards, playing chess, wandering around in a giant toy store looking for a gift for Cassie. His mental picture was Jack in his dress uniform, the Class A's. At Sha're's funeral, he realized. That's the last time he'd seen Jack wearing them. It didn't seem right that that should be the picture he had, but there it was. And Daniel held onto it, because he was petrified that if he let go, he'd forget what Jack looked like. He'd forget what Jack's presence was like.

Colonel Bowen was interested in the crystal skull on P7X-377. Accepted the revelation about the whereabouts of Nick with no comment or visible reaction. Treated Nick with patient courtesy, even when he was clearly uneasy about letting Nick visit the SGC. Daniel watched it all, out of phase, and wished he liked the guy better. It wasn't Bowen's fault he wasn't Jack.

Saying goodbye to Nick on 377 was another blow in what was now officially one motherfucker of a sucky year. Reunite with your grandfather, only to have him leave again, choosing giant aliens over you. Okay, okay, good motives and all, but still. It reached into that deep, secret place, where the childhood nightmares and pain were buried. Brought all that stuff too close to the surface, trying to get out.

Maybe that's why his appendix burst, Daniel thought idly one day in the infirmary. Then figured he was high on pain medication.

His new new normal went on hiatus. Down for the count with the appendix, he stayed on Earth. He went home to recuperate. He worked on translations at home and liked being away from stale air and grey walls. He missed Sam and Teal'c, but not being in SG-1. Yes, that had all changed, had been changing. They'd been more than a team, before. Now they were four people who worked well together.

Before, they had spent so much time together, he'd rarely socialized with Sam or Teal'c. He had socialized with Jack, but somehow, that was different, and he didn't question it. Now, on Earth while they were out there, he missed them and when they came back, he sought them out. It felt like a reunion, more strongly than it should've.

He was living in the hole in the world, while everyone else stayed where they were and followed the Earth's rotation around the sun. Lived their lives.

He talked to Bowen first, and Bowen, as expected, understood. He went with Bowen to see Hammond, and Hammond, as expected, understood. Daniel invited Sam and Teal'c out for dinner; he knew that otherwise he'd put off telling them.

Teal'c was silent, bowed his head very slightly. But he stared at Daniel for a long time, and his look had shades of meaning Daniel hadn't expected. Respect, sadness, pain. It startled Daniel, caught him off-guard and he got a lump in his throat.

"Daniel. No," said Sam. "No."

Sam's reaction he had expected. "Just hear me out," Daniel said. "It's not forever. And it's not because of Bowen or anything. Bowen's a good man. But I think this is something I have to do right now." He lowered his voice. "I can spend more time working on finding Kheb. And my hope is... Well, maybe I'm being foolish, but..."

"You wish to find Kheb before O'Neill returns, so that he may take us there," Teal'c said.

Daniel nodded, looking at Teal'c and glancing away. He picked up the napkin on the table and started toying with it.

"Daniel," Sam started to say, but the waitress interrupted, bringing their meals.

They didn't discuss it much over dinner, and afterwards, over coffee, Sam seemed resigned to it. "I guess you'll read all our reports, anyway, so you'll know what's going on. And we can meet after missions." She stirred her cappucino, and Teal'c took a slow drink of apple juice. "Yes," said Sam resolutely. "Let's meet after missions." She smiled, a bit forced. "Let's make it a date."

Daniel sipped his coffee. "It's a date. It's only for a few months, guys. I'll be back before you know it."

When he went home that night, he had an awful pit in his stomach. He'd just made a huge mistake. He almost drove to SGC and sought out Hammond right then and there, but he held back. It was late, and he felt faintly embarrassed for having been so wrong.

When he woke up the next morning, he decided not to go to Hammond. It didn't feel right, but it didn't feel wrong, either. It was all so... Everywhere he looked, every choice he had, it was all so hopeless. Day after day, waiting it out, going through the motions. Going in circles. When had finding the harsesis child taken a backseat to getting Jack back? It didn't make any sense. Getting Jack back was beyond Daniel's control. In someone else's hands, and they even had a time frame for when it would happen. Finding the harsesis child was something Daniel could do, he knew he could. And he worked on it. He focused his mind on it, put all his intellectual skills to the task. But he didn't put his heart in it. His thoughts detached from his soul, worked hard, constantly, while his heart stayed inside, waiting.

The more time passed, the crazier he got.

\-----

He wasn't asleep. He knew he wasn't asleep. And that meant that this was very scary and very wrong. It meant that he had no excuses.

He wasn't asleep, but he kept his eyes closed. He felt daylight on his face, on his skin, and the air was cool. The room was silent. He stayed in bed, where it was warm.

Daniel had woken up a long time ago, and stayed in bed, and thought about things. Random things, morning thoughts that had no structure yet. He called up his mental picture of Jack, like he always did, to remember. What Jack looked like, what Jack's presence felt like. What Jack felt like.

No. Daniel didn't know what Jack felt like. He knew what a pat on the shoulder from Jack felt like. He knew what a long, strong, glad-you're-alive-don't-do-that-to-me-again hug from Jack felt like. But he didn't know what _Jack_ felt like.

He wasn't asleep, which made it all wrong, but still he tried to imagine it: what did Jack feel like? He couldn't. Bereaved in this failure, he stayed in bed and kept his eyes shut and goddammit, stray tears welled beneath his eyelids. He blinked them away without looking at the world.

He wanted to go back to sleep, but he didn't. His mental picture of Jack was there, in his mind, and he couldn't put it away. Didn't want to put it away. That's when it became very scary and very wrong, because he wasn't asleep and had no excuse.

He got hard. It made no sense. What was there in his mind, in his memory, to bring his body arousal? Nothing, just Jack, and thoughts of Jack shouldn't have this effect. Especially not now, not with Jack away, and Daniel missing him, longing...

Longing. Longing for Jack. But not this way, no, couldn't be.

He remembered what Jack's presence was like. He was hard. It made no sense.

He tried to think of Sha're, but his mental picture of her was jumbled. She wore Amaunet's dress, wore Amaunet's crown. That grief was too close, hurt too much. And with it came irrational anger -- why couldn't she fight it? why wasn't she stronger? -- and guilt for thinking such things.

It hurt too much, and he turned away, and there was Jack again. He couldn't think this. He had to stop this. But he remembered what Jack's presence was like, and the longing was there.

His jealously guarded hoard of memories opened up, and there was Jack. What he looked like, not a picture but three-dimensional, moving, breathing, in vivid color. The substance of his presence: height, physicality, mannerisms, gestures. The strength of his arms as he hugged Daniel. The warmth of his hand as he rubbed Daniel's back. The sound of his voice, the words he said, how he said them.

He longed for it, all of it. Wanted Jack with every sense: to look at him, listen to him, smell his scent, touch him, taste him. Breathe him in. Capture him and trap him and never let him go, no, not again, not ever again.

It was scary, and he felt feverish, but he revelled in these memories, in this essence of Jack, in this desire. He was so hard, and he touched himself, grabbed his dick and jerked off, fast and urgent. Needing it (but it was wrong), wanting it so badly (but it was scary). And when he crested and came, and melted back into solid, solitary flesh, he opened his eyes.

\-----

Slowly -- but more quickly than seemed right -- he adjusted. Only a month (or so) to go. And Daniel had, more or less, accepted what was now there all the time, like a shadow. What he felt for Jack went deeper than friendship, and one aspect of this deeper feeling was a desire for physical contact.

Which was the distanced, ten-dollar way of saying he was in love with Jack and wanted to jump his bones. Or something.

Of course, Daniel knew very well that his acceptance was only working because Jack wasn't actually here. The hideous irony of the situation was that only in Jack's absence was it safe to be so in love with Jack. As soon as Jack came back, all the scariness and wrongness of his feelings would come back, too.

In the meantime, he had his work and his friends. He was enjoying the "dates" with Sam and Teal'c after their missions. His replacement was Rothman, who was shaping up pretty well under Colonel Bowen's harsh faith in Rothman's abilities. Sam tried to stay kind and diplomatic when mentioning Rothman, but Teal'c, as ever, was honest and succint. And Daniel discovered that once you got a couple of beers into Sam, she became chattier and less diplomatic.

Mostly, though, they talked about Jack. Daniel felt a twinge of guilt, like he was encouraging these reminiscences for his own secret (very secret) pleasures, but it seemed like the three of them all had Jack on the brain. The last weeks were going by, it made sense.

Daniel also had his memories and, yes, his fantasies. Having adjusted, and knowing the adjustment for something temporary, he indulged a bit. And found himself in a heady, unfamiliar world, unsure where to start.

He'd never seen Jack naked. That seemed wrong somehow, even though it should be anything but. But, truthfully, all those years, all those missions, all those showers, he'd never taken a good look. He had vague impressions of skinny legs and hairy chest, but that was about it.

Indulging himself, and somewhat buzzed on this new pursuit of curiosity, he discreetly purchased some gay porn magazines to see what was au courant in this world he was skirting. And after the initial, stunning disappointment subsided, he pulled the magazines out again and studied them.

So, well, he could draw a few conclusions. First was that Jack was not flavor of the day in this world. That was reassuring. Like it kept Jack Daniel's little secret. Second was that Daniel, looking at himself critically and trying not to oversell himself, might possibly be flavor of the day. He'd never thought about it before. It was slightly surprising and gratifying. He wasn't sure how useful this discovery was, though.

Third conclusion was that, for better or for worse, Daniel's own imagination had already prompted just about everything the porn magazine was selling. It was just that now he had visual confirmation. He squinted and tried to imagine himself and Jack that way, doing that. It was so far removed from the reality of their relationship, he wasn't sure how to incorporate it into fantasy.

Even so, Daniel had to admit he found some of the images arousing. It wasn't them, it was something else entirely, but it spoke to the base, raw sexuality that Daniel hadn't indulged in since he lost Sha're. The primitive, coarse urge to fuck and come, to exult in the body's design for pleasure and sensation. So, he could (and did) look at the pictures and get off, but it was a short-lived high. All surface and no lasting satisfaction.

For that, he retreated into the darkness, into the late night, into the silence of his empty bedroom, the space of his empty bed. And there he dismantled the armour he was building -- short-term adjustment, gay sex curiosity, indulging baser urges -- and let himself experience his longing as it really was. Confusing and uncertain and frightening and impossible. Laden with imagery he didn't want any psychoanalyst to get a glimpse of. Jack holding him in his arms. Jack lifting him. Jack holding his hands and kissing his fingers. Jack whispering stupid jokes in his ear. Jack falling asleep with his head in Daniel's lap. Jack pinning Daniel's arms behind his back. Jack shouting, angry. Jack pushing him up against a wall.

Not that Daniel was passive in his fantasies. But it was more comfortable to think of Jack doing, Jack acting. The other images -- Daniel pulling Jack into a kiss, Daniel lifting Jack, Daniel pinning Jack in his arms -- scattered with the rest, disturbing.

Sometimes these fantasies made him hard, left him with a brief, warm, sexual bliss. Sometimes these fantasies made him miserable from wanting too much, left him alone and cold. Either way, he curled up under the blankets and wished Jack were there with him.

Time disappeared.

\-----

The Tollan contacted General Hammond when their ship entered Edora's orbit. A few hours later, SG-1 waited in the gateroom, watching the event horizon expectantly. Narim emerged. Alone.

Narim introduced himself to Colonel Bowen and smiled at Sam. "We were able to locate the stargate and restore it to its proper position," he told them.

"Where's Colonel O'Neill?" Hammond asked.

"He stayed behind to say good-bye," Narim said, in that way he had of sounding apologetic for everything. Daniel was too relieved, too happy, to worry about it. Not yet.

Then they got to the planet, and there was Jack, startlingly long-haired and bearded, dressed in an Edoran farmer's clothes, standing with Laira, holding her hands. He glanced briefly at SG-1, then pulled Laira into a long hug. Her body shook; she was crying. Daniel watched Jack kiss her forehead, then looked away, feeling intrusive. Sam and Teal'c stood back, also not looking.

Of course Jack hadn't spent the last 15 months doing nothing and being useless and yearning for his best friend with inappropriately sexual feelings. Jack had acquired a family. Jack hadn't expected to come back.

But he did come back, leaving Laira and her son behind. Not looking back. Looking ahead, quiet and unsmiling. Daniel had a lot of questions, but kept them to himself. A long time had passed, a lot of pain in those months. It was only to be expected that the reunion wasn't quite the celebration he'd anticipated.

Daniel figured they should talk, but he wasn't sure what to say and what he shouldn't say. It was easier to put it off for a day or two. All he said to Jack in between briefings was, "I'm glad you're back."

Jack smiled briefly and replied, "So am I."

And then, a day after they got Jack back, Thor took him away again.

Not Thor, as it turned out. Thor had died in battle. But he'd had so much faith in Jack, he'd named a warship after him before he died. The Asgard High Command, caught in an invasion, decided to gamble on Thor's faith. So Jack's first mission after coming back was to blast at menacing mechanical bugs with Teal'c and a hand-picked team, while Daniel and Sam tried to think stupidly for the Asgard for thirty-six relentless hours. Everything was back to normal: Jack, constant danger, surviving against all odds, saving a galaxy or two.

And Jack was back to normal. Probably. He'd gotten rid of the beard and swapped the long grey for severely short silver. He made the same bad jokes. Had the same intelligence hidden beneath the same pretense of stupidity. He and Daniel had the same arguments. It was comforting.

Daniel wasn't back to normal. He had expected -- had wanted -- the past 15 months to evaporate and leave no impression. That didn't happen.

They had this separation between them now. Fifteen months of living estranged lives, developing new secrets away from each other. Where there should have been questions, there was only silence. And it was not the silence Daniel was accustomed to, the silence of not speaking because their words were redundant.

The hole in the world was supposed to close up as soon as Jack returned, but it was only shrinking. Daniel couldn't tell if it was his perception that had altered, or if Jack really wasn't as back-to-normal as he appeared to be. He fell into observer mode, trying not to be obvious. Noticed that Jack's jokes weren't quite as snappy as before. Noticed that Jack's arguments had taken on a colder edge. Noticed a certain remoteness. Maybe Jack was still back on Edora, in Laira's arms.

The first inkling Daniel got that the others were noticing something changed about Jack was Janet's informal welcome-home dinner, which felt for all the world more like an intervention than a pot-luck. Daniel sat near the end of the table, observed the expectant looks in Jack's direction and felt uncomfortable on Jack's behalf. The only person not waiting for Jack to say something, do something, be Jack again, was Cassie. She had reached that certain age where aloofness is cool, and was pretending not to care too much.

After dinner, Jack snuck off and escaped to the back porch. Daniel caught his departure and slipped away to join him. Jack was leaning on the railing, holding a beer bottle. It was warm and a light rain was falling.

"If you're here to get me to open up, forget it," Jack said without looking up.

"That obvious?"

Jack held the beer bottle by its neck and watched it dangling between his fingers. He raised an eyebrow.

Daniel leaned against the railing next to him. Rain dripped from the awning onto his glasses and nose. "I thought it was just a dinner. I didn't know."

Jack glanced at him. "I know."

Daniel paused. "Still..." he said. "As long as we're here..."

Jack shook his head, smiling grimly, and took a drink of beer. "There's nothing to say."

"I don't think that's true."

Jack looked over at him, sharp and assessing. "Then you go first. Tell me about quitting SG-1."

This caught Daniel off-guard. He'd returned to the team as soon as Jack came back; that little period of his life was over now. He should have known Jack would hold him accountable for it.

"Oh. That."

Jack shrugged and took another drink from the beer bottle. "Like I said. There's nothing to say." He stared out at the darkness of the backyard.

Daniel felt an urge to grab him and shake him. Bring him back, get him away from Edora. He flattened his palms on the railing instead and let the urge subside. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe after all this time, they really had nothing to say to each other.

The thought clawed him, dug deep and scratched so hard he couldn't breathe for a moment. He clutched the railing and said, "Okay, I quit. I wasn't getting anything done. I was going around in circles, and I couldn't stand it any longer." He got all the words out in a rush, not looking at Jack. He paused. "It wasn't anything to do with Colonel Bowen. Bowen's a good man," he added automatically. It was all he could say about Bowen: _he's a good man._ He left unsaid the rest of the sentence: _but he's not you._

He looked up and Jack was watching him, silent and serious. Jack patted his shoulder and let his hand rest there for a moment. Daniel thought he'd say something, finally. But Jack let his hand drop and looked away.

The back door opened and Cassie came out. "Mom wants you to come in for dessert now," she announced, trying to sound aloof but watching Jack with eager affection.

Jack smiled at her and shook his head. "Can't disobey Mom, now can we?" he said, and followed Cassie inside.

Daniel had no intention of letting Jack off the hook so easily, but he didn't get another chance that night. The next day SG-1 was back on P3X-797 to meet with the Edoran refugees and start the resettlement process.

Tuplo accompanied them to the refugee camp. Daniel was surprised to find a small village of wooden huts, a mill on the stream, fenced-off vegetable gardens, and children running around happily. Livestock grazed in pastures beyond the houses.

"The progress of Edora Village has been remarkable," Tuplo said. "This track we're standing on is the trade route between our peoples."

"Trade route?" Sam asked.

"The Edorans manufacture remarkable tools for woodworking," Tuplo replied. He hesitated and smiled. "They also brew a most wonderful fermented beverage from certain roots."

"I think I know that beverage," Jack murmured, tapping his fingers on his MP-5.

Keverin emerged from a hut and approached the visitors. He greeted Tuplo warmly and gestured for SG-1 to follow him. "Come, we're having a wedding banquet for Sella, my daughter, and Durno."

He led them behind the huts to a meadow where tables and benches had been set up and decorated with colorful streamers and cloths Daniel recognized as Land of Light designs. Bowls of olives, fruit, and flowers sat next to clay jugs. A trio of fiddlers sat with a little boy playing an ocarina. Among the Edorans were a few of Tuplo's people, laughing and clapping as a young Edoran woman danced with a young man from the Land of Light.

"Well," said Daniel as SG-1 sat down at one of the tables, "I guess our advice to mix with the locals worked."

Teal'c looked around the wedding party. "Indeed."

The Edorans were in the middle of a celebration and didn't want to interrupt it, even for good news. Keverin, distracted by his daughter's wedding and playing host, only nodded once when Jack told him about the restored gate on Edora. Then he went back to pouring drinks and encouraging bawdy wedding night songs from the musicians. Tuplo joined the party and danced with a tall, pipe-smoking Edoran woman.

Daniel observed the intermingling of the two cultures with fascination, surprised by how quickly things had changed. But his attention was drawn back to Jack, who was fidgeting and impatient.

"Everyone's here," Jack said. "Let's just tell them to pack up and get it over with."

"I don't think it will be that easy," Daniel said. "Look at them. They've made a home here." He looked out at the party, where two giggling girls were winding a red cloth around a young man's eyes.

Jack gave him a dark look. "Yeah, okay. Maybe some of them will stay. Fine. But the others should have the choice to go home, don't you think?"

"I'm not saying they shouldn't," Daniel countered. "All I'm saying is that we should wait a little longer. At least until the banquet winds down. Let them have their celebration before we bring them potentially disruptive news."

The boy with the red blindfold stumbled through the dancing couples until he found a beautiful Land of Light girl and touched her hair. She blushed and smiled.

Jack stood up, tapping his fingers on his gun, and said, "Whatever. Let me know when it's over."

Sam stared up at him. "Colonel?"

"I'm taking a little walk, Carter. To get away from this damn music for a while." He strode off, away from the village, past the vegetable gardens.

Sam looked at Daniel. "What was that about?"

Teal'c stood up. "I will follow O'Neill."

"No," said Daniel, sighing. "I will." He looked at Sam and Teal'c. Teal'c lifted one eyebrow slightly, but sat down again.

Sam gave Daniel a conspiratorial smile. "We could draw straws."

Daniel shook his head, rising. "I always draw the short ones, anyway." Besides, he wanted to talk to Jack, although what he was going to say, he had no idea.

He found Jack sitting on the side of a hill not far from the village, just above one of the pastures. Close enough to hear the music and smell the scent of roasting meat from the banquet. Jack didn't look up at him as Daniel approached.

Daniel sat down on the grass beside him. After a minute or so, he asked, "Still nothing to say?"

Jack took off his cap, rubbed his hair, replaced the cap. He was quiet for so long that Daniel decided he was right after all. They had nothing to say to each other. Or, at least, Jack had nothing to say to him. He watched the shapes of dancing people below and felt a sharp chill in his chest, like he'd been stabbed with an icicle.

"I didn't love her," Jack said quietly, voice raw.

"What?" Daniel looked at Jack's profile, steady and closed.

"Laira." Jack glanced at Daniel very briefly, then went back to watching the village. "I didn't love her."

Daniel picked some grass and twisted it in his fingers, not knowing what to say. The secret, the shadow he'd been carrying, was heavy inside him and he felt embarrassed. How could he sit here and listen to Jack's confidences about love? But he was the one who wanted to talk, he reminded himself grimly. _Careful what you wish for._

Jack was silent for a long time, then said, "I wanted to. I tried. Little by little, I gave up everything, but that was the one thing I couldn't change." He glanced at Daniel again. "She knew. She wanted it so badly, and I tried to give her that, but I couldn't, and she knew."

Daniel twisted the grass until it was green pulp between his fingers. He felt disconnected from himself, from the moment. Like the hill beneath them, and the village below, and Jack beside him were all just pictures, films, around him, and he was alone again. Out of phase.

"I know how she feels," he said.

In a shattering, horrible rush, everything was real again. Daniel bit down on his tongue. He'd really just said that. He wiped his fingers on his pants and waited, mind racing to invent excuses and explanations. Cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck.

Then Jack said, "No, you don't."

Daniel stayed still, having a dual reaction inside: _What the hell would you know about it?_ and: _What did you just say?_

For guidance on which reaction was appropriate, he steeled himself and looked at Jack, who was watching the party below. He stared until Jack looked at him, steady, serious, honest, open. Oh. Now he knew which reaction was appropriate, but he didn't need to say anything, because words were redundant. The hole in the world -- it had disappeared, just like that. Just from Jack's look.

They sat in silence on the hill until the music died down. Jack stood up first and helped Daniel to his feet. They climbed down to the party, and Jack spoke to Keverin briefly. Keverin stood on one of the tables and made the announcement: the Edoran stargate was restored, and the Edorans could return home.

The news was met with stunned silence. Then Daniel heard one woman whisper, "Praise be." That started the murmurings. Tuplo stood up and assured the Edorans that they were welcome to stay in the village. That turned the murmurings into debates, arguments, decisions.

Keverin turned to Jack. "Give us a week. Those who will go will be ready by then."

Hammond let SG-1 stay in Edora Village for the week, to help the refugees who decided to go pack up their belongings. They came to Jack for news of friends and family, to hear how their homes had been destroyed and their crops ruined. The ones who wanted to return seemed determined, almost restless to get going.

A handful of Land of Light people were going, too, with their new husbands and wives. They had the hardest good-byes to say, the most possessions to pack up.

Daniel was helping Krea, a Land of Light bride, pack her silks and jewels and gold plates. Her family was wealthy and lived in a sprawling villa surrounded by olive groves. Her husband Meddim was a young, taciturn farmer whose land and house had been destroyed by meteors. Daniel sat under warm sunlight streaming in from the atrium and carefully folded Krea's bronze mirror in a length of sheer blue cloth.

"Lady Melosha remembers you," Krea said lightly, arranging several elaborate combs in a carved, wooden box.

Daniel placed the mirror in a packing crate stamped with the SGC logo. "I remember Melosha," he said carefully. "Uh, how is she these days?"

Krea smiled, setting the wooden box in the crate. "These days she is most well, heavy with child. She married Tarniye several seasons ago."

Daniel smiled back. "I'm very glad to hear that."

Krea went to her bed and touched the silk curtains hanging around it. "I don't know how much to take with me. They say we can come back, but..."

"Don't worry. You can come back. It's scary to travel through the gate at first, but you'll get used to it."

Krea turned to him and nodded. "I know. I'm being silly. It just seems so far away." She looked around the room, assessing. "Oh, the olives! I promised I'd bring jars of Father's best olives. Let me go down to the kitchens..." She left him, scurrying off.

Daniel took down the bed curtains, rolled them up and packed them into the crate. He found a small bull's head statuette next to Krea's bed and sat down, studying it. A religious artifact. It had a hole at its base, perhaps for wearing as a pendant.

"Daniel?"

Daniel looked up and Jack walked into the room.

Jack peered into the crate. "Almost done?"

"Krea's getting some olives."

Jack nodded and looked around the room. Daniel held the bull's head statue and rubbed its horns, watching him. The sunlight streaks made Jack's skin seem gold, turned the silver in his hair into white.

"How's it going in the village?" Daniel asked.

"Not too bad. About half want to go. It keeps changing everyday, though."

Daniel looked down at the figurine in his hand, then set it back where he'd found it. When he looked up, Jack was standing in the middle of the room, watching him. Daniel stared back, desperate to say something, to tell him everything, every damn minute of the last damn year and a half. A confession, an admission of guilt, a declaration: he wasn't sure which.

But then, maybe he didn't have to say anything. Jack's look was like it was back on the hill, during the wedding banquet. Maybe he understood already. Or maybe it wasn't important that he understood, because there they were, together, not apart.

Time seemed to stop, just for a few seconds, in that bright, sunlit room. Then Jack said, "Daniel--"

"Here they are," Krea said, coming in carrying three large glass jars of olives. Jack went to help her, taking two of the jars from her arms and carefully putting them in the crate.

The next day they started the moves. Heavy-duty cargo transport vehicles (looking suspiciously like retrofitted MALPs in Daniel's opinion) were used to cart the crates to and through the stargate. As he watched one disappear in the event horizon, he couldn't help wondering how Krea's prized olives would fare in the journey through the wormhole.

Families and friends said good-bye, with assurances of future visits and thanks to Tuplo's people for their hospitality. The mood was more celebratory than somber. When the last of the Edorans for this initial homecoming had stepped through the gate, SG-1 followed.

They went to help the Edorans resettle, and to take stock of what kind of rebuilding aid SGC could provide: material, manpower, technology. A lot had been done in the months they were cut off, but with limited supplies.

Daniel didn't know how he felt about Laira. He watched her greet Jack, watched their brief, chaste hug, watched her watching Jack. He felt no jealousy or pity. A kind of sadness, and an unsettling feeling of shared experience. He was relieved that there was too much to do; he didn't have time to think about it.

\-----

Time resumed, as normal.

It was good to have Jack back. Daniel didn't want to put all his weight on this anchor, either, but the temptation was too strong. With Jack back, Daniel wasn't a loose end anymore. SG-1 was a team again, and more than a team. All bonds renewed and strengthened.

And yet...

Daniel felt guilty for even thinking it. There should be no "and yet" in their relationship. They had gotten as close as they could on that hill. Jack didn't need to say any more, didn't need to show or prove anything. "And yet" was a betrayal of their friendship.

Still. There was an "and yet." Jack had never finished the sentence Krea had interrupted that day in the Land of Light, and Daniel wanted to know what Jack had been about to say. He wanted to ask, but there never seemed to be a good moment. They were back to normal, which meant hurtling from one life-or-death adventure from another with little breathing space in between. They argued, they understood, they worked together. Asking for more than this was selfish.

So, he was selfish, Daniel decided.

He tried not to be. He tried to exorcise the disturbing temptations from his life. He got rid of the porn. When he dreamt of Jack, he woke up and forced himself to think of something else. He avoided watching Jack too closely. He repeated to himself endlessly that they were just friends. They loved each other. There didn't need to be anything else there.

Besides, this year was already strange enough. Euronda. High on superpowers. Time-loops. Captured by an Unas. Personality implants and slavery. Nearly losing Jack and Teal'c in space. Osiris. Nearly losing Hammond.

How did they deal with it all, he wondered. What were they all hanging on for? Jack would say, "Saving Earth," and Daniel accepted that answer. But what he clutched as a life-preserver was not the answer itself but that Jack had one at all.

And then, something so unexpected, Daniel couldn't quite believe it. The harsesis child sought him out. The harsesis child, who should be no more than a baby, was a boy of about ten who wanted to know about his mother. It was a sick joke. No, it was very real. The boy had powers. The Tok'ra and SGC wanted to strap him down and extract his knowledge. Instead, the boy talked in proverbs and parables and sent Daniel into a dark, horrifying nightmare. He no longer doubted the boy's identity.

The day the boy left, Daniel didn't go home. Life was telling him something. Something so big he couldn't read it all. He needed distance. He needed something.

He thought of turning to Jack. Selfishly. Put his weight on that anchor, ask for answers, be reassured. Yes, Jack reassured him. Jack's very existence reassured him. He shouldn't ask for more than that.

He stayed in his lab and wrote down everything the harsesis child had told him, and cross-referenced all his notes. He fell asleep at his desk and when he woke up, Jack was standing next to him, his hand on Daniel's back, saying, "Hey, weren't you supposed to be going to P4X-347 today?"

Daniel had experienced lots of sucky years, had gone through lots of waking nightmares he would have given anything not to go through, but he'd never tried to kill himself. That was the way out that made everything you'd survived pointless. Now, all it took was some stupid light and some stupid radiation to do the trick where isolation, the deaths of loved ones, and loneliness had never worked. How fitting that it was a Goa'uld invention for pleasure. Such careless evil was their style.

He hated P4X-347. He hated the stupid palace decorated in Early Goa'uld Las Vegas Decadence. He hated the barren, cold planet outside. He hated the abundance of writings on the walls and columns, because that's what had fascinated him and drawn him here in the first place. Now they were stuck here -- he, Jack, Sam, and Loren -- for three useless weeks.

The first week dragged by. Sam examined the light device and its remote control carefully, read Doctor Fraiser's medical reports, and did some calculations on how to dial the device down. She was keeping busy. Jack taught Loren how to play cards and told him about Earth. The Jack version of Earth, where all kids were required to own dogs and eating ice cream was mandatory. Daniel worked on translating the walls, writing everything out in a notebook.

The palace was big, full of winding corridors that branched off into small rooms with billowing drapery and gold furniture. Daniel found a room with an ornamental brazier shaped like a vulture in it. He claimed that one, just because the vulture was something different to look at.

He was stretched out on his stomach on the low, overstuffed, purple bed in his room, doodling in his notebook. Probably because of the addiction, he couldn't concentrate on the translation today. He turned his letters into pictures, then connected the pictures with more lines, until his words were unreadable.

"What's it supposed to be?"

Daniel hadn't heard Jack come in. He glanced back over his shoulder. Jack stood there in t-shirt and camo pants, hands in his pockets.

"What's it look like?"

Jack came closer and leaned over to get a better look. "Um."

Daniel capped his pen and sat up. Jack sat down on the floor, leaned against the bed, and stared at the brazier.

"Why a vulture?" Jack asked.

"Oh, vultures were very important in Egyptian mythology. They were symbols of protection--"

"Protection," Jack said, cutting off the rest of his explanation. "Huh."

Daniel picked up his notebook and flicked at the pages. "Where's Loren?"

"He asked Carter to teach him about Earth math." Jack bent his head back and looked up at Daniel. "I think he has a crush on her."

Daniel lifted his eyebrows. "On Sam? Isn't he a little young for that?"

Jack went back to staring at the brazier and shrugged. "For a crush? Nah. Besides, he's not that young. He's in his teens."

Jack leaned forward and back a couple of times. Daniel watched him, puzzled. Jack settled back against the bed and said, "Its eyes follow you. How can you stand it? Don't you feel like you're being watched?"

Daniel looked at the vulture. He slowly moved his head from side to side. "To tell you the truth, I never noticed. Before now. Thanks."

"Sorry."

Daniel looked down at the mess of drawings on his notebook. He traced one snaking line with his finger. After a long silence, he said, staring at a Q that had become a spiral, "Um, Jack. When were on P3X-797 helping the Edorans move, that last day you started to say something to me. We were in Krea's house."

Jack didn't say anything. Daniel spread his fingers over the paper and ran them along the faint blue guidelines. "I've just always wondered what you were going to say, that's all," he said.

"Oh, something I shouldn't," Jack said finally, with a forced lightness.

Daniel stared at the back of Jack's head. "What does that mean? What were you going to say?"

Jack shifted and turned around and looked at him. "Daniel."

Daniel kept his gaze steady, looking into Jack's eyes. If Jack wasn't going to answer him, maybe he could decipher it from his look, anyway.

Jack ran a hand through his hair. "God damn this place. I'm only telling you this because we're here and we're drugged, you know."

"Go on."

"Well, it was... a moment of weakness. You were sitting on that damn bed. Like this one. In that room, and I don't know. We'd had that little chat on the hill earlier. I don't know what I was thinking..."

Daniel frowned at him and drummed his fingers on the notebook. "What does me sitting on a bed have to do with it?"

Jack arched an eyebrow.

"Oh," Daniel said as a flush of heat crept through his skin, up his cheeks, to his forehead. "Oh," he repeated.

"You don't have to worry," Jack muttered. "It was a moment. It passed."

Daniel picked at the metal rings holding the notebook together, unravelling the top one. "I see."

Jack arched his eyebrow again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Daniel kept picking at the metal wire. He licked his lips and shrugged a little. Okay, technically, they were both high right now, right? None of this was really real. "Maybe..." He paused. "Maybe I didn't want the moment to pass."

He didn't look up. He picked at the wire until a third of it was sticking up from the notebook, then twisted and untwisted the wire around his finger.

Jack said quietly, "Is this a problem?"

Daniel shrugged. "I don't know." He looked up then, stared into Jack's eyes. "Is it?"

Jack took a deep breath and released it. "Well, it's insanely wrong for a number of reasons, so I'm guessing yeah."

Jack was speaking of it in the present tense. A moment had passed, but it was in the present tense. Daniel felt a little more settled. Actually, more settled than he had felt in a long time.

He ran a finger along one of the lines he'd drawn on the paper. "There's at least one reason why it isn't wrong."

"Yeah," Jack said heavily.

Daniel looked at him. No need to hold back anymore. If his words came back to haunt him, he could always say he was under the influence of an alien drug.

"Jack. We don't have to do anything about it. We don't have to change anything. We're friends. We... uh, have feelings for each other. And that's, really, it's enough. It's more than enough." He paused, suddenly shy under Jack's unwavering gaze. He gathered his courage and finished softly, "But I won't deny I've thought about it, and I'd like to. I think."

Jack said nothing.

"But we don't have to," Daniel said again.

Jack rested a hand on the bed, near Daniel's right foot. He tilted his head and stared at his hand. Then he raised his eyebrows, smirked a little, and said, "You just propositioned me. I think."

Daniel smiled and glanced down at the notebook. "Yes, I think I did."

Jack patted Daniel's foot and stood up, smiling softly. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and wandered out of the room, glancing back once.

Daniel watched him go and sighed. Well, truthfully, they didn't have to. Daniel remained intensely curious and was very slightly disappointed, but nothing changed the way he felt about Jack. The closeness was there, familiar and comforting, and he knew it for what it was, what it had always been.

He looked down at his notebook, turned the page, and went back to doodling.

That night, he wasn't asleep. He'd lit the brazier and was watching light flicker across the gold and black walls. The vulture's eyes stared at him.

A soft sound on the floor made him look over at the door, and there was Jack, standing there in the same old clothes, hands in pockets, like he'd never left. Daniel furrowed his brow and wondered if this was a dream.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

Daniel rose up, leaning back on his elbows. "What's wrong?"

Jack sat down on the bed and ran a hand along its edge. "Um... You said..."

Daniel felt very aware of the room, the bed, the soft sheets, his nakedness beneath them, Jack sitting next to his legs, the brazier's flickering light, the closed door. The door Jack must have closed when he came in.

"Oh. I thought..." Daniel said, trailing off. Jack looked at him, frowning uncertainly. Daniel licked his lips. "Forget it. Um, climb in." He moved over to make room.

Jack stared at him. "We don't have to."

Daniel smiled a little. "I think we've established that fact."

Jack pulled his t-shirt off, took off his boots and socks, unfastened his pants and slid out of them. He fingered the waistband of his undershorts. "I think I'll keep these on. For now. Just, you know."

"Okay."

Jack got into bed next to him. Daniel watched the brazier, the vulture's eyes, and tried to make his pulse stop racing. He needed to calm down. This was Jack. Nothing needed to happen. It was all right.

Daniel lowered himself, settled against the bed. They weren't even touching, but he felt Jack's presence everywhere, right there.

"When you were gone..." he said, unsure how to finish the sentence.

"I know." Jack paused. "Me too. This is all kinda crazy and insane and everything, but I feel like I was given a second chance. Not that I didn't appreciate what we had before... I mean, I'm fine with that. But, you know. Can't count on a third chance."

Words were redundant when Jack had just said everything Daniel had been thinking. Daniel relaxed and his arm touched Jack's. They were touching. Jack's presence was everywhere.

Jack shifted onto his side and rested an arm across Daniel's stomach. Jack's arm was warm and heavy on Daniel's skin. Daniel touched Jack's hand, followed each finger, felt the bump of each knuckle. He slid his palm over Jack's wrist and forearm.

"This is a little weird," Jack said. His words were a soft breath against Daniel's temple.

Daniel smiled. "A little?"

He sat up, running his hand up Jack's arm. Jack settled on his back and smoothed his hands along Daniel's shoulders. His hands were dry and rough and moved so gently. Daniel stroked Jack's chest, the strange softness of his chest hair, and felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

This is what Jack felt like. Alive and strong and warm and real. Jack's presence surrounded him, and he knew what Jack felt like.

Jack drew him closer, wrapped his arms around him in an easy embrace. Daniel relaxed completely against him and rested his head on Jack's shoulder, sliding his arms between Jack and the bed to hold him. His lips touched Jack's skin. His chest was tickled by Jack's chest hair. He felt Jack's breath on the nape of his neck. He slid one leg between Jack's, felt Jack's toes wiggle against his foot.

This is what they felt like together. Skin, muscle, bone, hair, breath. Jack's hands glided over his back, slow and steady, up and down. Daniel closed his eyes and floated in peaceful drowsiness. His arms, pinned beneath Jack, ached a little, but he didn't care. This is what they felt like together.

"Are you falling asleep?" Jack murmured.

"Mm."

Jack's lips brushed against his neck. "So am I."

Daniel smiled. He said, "We have two more weeks here."

After a moment, Jack said, "Yeah."

Daniel rubbed his cheek against Jack's shoulder and touched his lips to Jack's arm. "I guess what I'm asking is can we be insane for another two weeks?"

"Between us, I think we can manage to be insane for longer than that," Jack said, and Daniel could hear the smirk in his voice.

Daniel caressed Jack's arm with his lips. "Yeah, but..."

Jack sighed. "Yeah, but. Cross that bridge when we come to it." His fingertips travelled the length of Daniel's back, to his hips, then up again. Then down again. "Besides, we can always blame it on this godforsaken planet."

Daniel floated, anchored. "Yeah," he whispered, peaceful and drowsy.

The last year and a half was melting away. Not evaporating, leaving nothing, but becoming merely an interval of time. A space, a distance, a different place. Pushed further away with each stroke of Jack's hands on his skin.

(the end)


End file.
